


Take and Receive

by NinPotato



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 'straight' Will, (mild), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Bottom Will Graham, Bottoming from the Top, Butt Plugs, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Will Graham, Dildos, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Gay Panic, Humor, Implied Somnophilia, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Power Bottom Will Graham, Public Masturbation, Resolved Sexual Tension, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Humor, Smut, Switching, They Flip!, Voyeurism, Will is an ass man, implied drugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29813826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinPotato/pseuds/NinPotato
Summary: That’s what Hannibal does: he takes. He takes life and he turns it into food. He takes the suffering of others and turns it into seasoning. He takes information and turns it into a weapon, seals it in a fancy envelope and labels it ‘return to sender.’He took Will’s trust and turned it into worship.---Will loves Hannibal's mind and he loves Hannibal's touch, but he doesn't love Hannibal's body.Or, at least that's what he tells himself.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 151





	Take and Receive

**Author's Note:**

> This did not turn out how I expected at all but it's quickly become one of my favorite things I've ever written. Please enjoy!

Will only ever lets Hannibal fuck him from behind. He was never adverse to being penetrated–never fragile in that sense–but he is uncomfortable with the thought of being genuinely attracted to another man’s body in and of itself. Though they are intimate on at least a twice-weekly basis, Will never touches. He never gives Hannibal’s bare skin more than a cursory glance.

On an evening like any other, Will prepares himself and climbs onto their shared bed, naked. He lies flat on his stomach, pretending to sleep as he waits for the husband he never married to return home from work. He must be waiting for quite some time longer than usual, however, as he really does fall asleep. He wakes much earlier than usual the next morning, seeing Hannibal’s sleeping form beside him.

At once, Will is flabbergasted. Hannibal is always in the mood for sex whenever Will is, regardless of whether or not the latter is conscious. Will prefers it that way, in fact. He even requested to be drugged the first time. Hannibal hesitated no more than a minute before acquiescing. So, why did he leave Will to sleep this time?

He expects something to be different once Hannibal awakens, but he’s met with nothing more than the typical “Good morning, Will. Did you sleep well?”

For once, he isn’t sure how to answer. He mumbles a barely coherent “‘mkay,” and stumbles out of bed and into his workshop. There are no boat motors to repair today, but Will is unsure how else to spend his time now that Hannibal has ruined their routine. He disassembles a few recently completed projects, then reassembles them. It’s far from productive, but it keeps his mind occupied; keeps his thoughts from drifting where he would rather they not go. That is, until Hannibal throws a metaphorical wrench into his plan.

The very real, solid wrench is startled out of his hand when the door opens behind him suddenly. Will recovers quickly, getting onto his hands and knees to retrieve the wrench from where it’s slid under the nearest storage cabinet.

“My apologies, Will. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only meant to grab a towel.”

“It’s fine,” Will says before he has had time to process the other man’s words.

He turns to face Hannibal, brows knit as he truly considers the unlikeliness of what he’s just heard. Before he can ask, his brain shuts down completely at the sight of Hannibal’s bare ass appearing and then vanishing as its owner retreats through the door from which he came. Will blinks repetitively at the open doorway, as if trying to dislodge the image from his eyelids.

“What the hell…”

Hannibal heads off to work without either of them mentioning the event. Will is glad he hasn’t made things anymore awkward, but he’s equally concerned that Hannibal may become bolder and start walking around naked more from here on out. While he can’t exactly say he’s traumatized by it, Will would much prefer not having to wonder if Hannibal is dressed or not at any given moment.

Will fears Hannibal may expect sex that night, to make up for the night before, but he only slips into bed with a quiet “Sweet dreams, Will.”

As it turns out, Will’s dreams that night are not sweet at all. He finds himself lost, running through an empty maze of a museum with no ceiling. He isn’t sure why he’s running or whether there’s even a way out, but he cannot stop. Eventually, he comes to a massive open room. The walls are just as blank as those of the endless hallways he’s been running through, but he can see something at the far end.

“Come closer,” says a familiar voice.

Will jumps at the sound of it, but does as he’s told. He approaches quickly yet cautiously, desperate for some sort of change but wary of any unseen threats. He freezes on the spot once he sees what’s there.

The smooth, expertly sculpted white marble wouldn’t be out of place in any museum real or fake. Still, Will turns away from it immediately. He squeezes his eyes shut as he hurries in the direction from which he came. He crashes directly into something solid mere seconds later.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Will complains aloud, voice echoing throughout the bleak white room.

The ass is right in front of him once more, mere inches away from his face. He turns again, and it’s still there in front of him. It’s there in every direction he looks, even hovering above him like it may fall and crush him at any moment. Below too, like it’ll rise through the shiny tiles of the floor and carry him up into the void above–or into another ass, perhaps.

“What troubles you, dear Will?” Hannibal’s disembodied voice sounds miles away, yet also like it’s coming from within him. “As much as I love to watch you go, I hate to see you leave. Why don’t you stay with me, my clever, beautiful boy? Have I offended you somehow? Could you turn the other cheek?”

“I want out,” Will says, closing his eyes again, “There’s nothing for me here! Nothing–I want nothing else!”

“Sweet boy, we both know I am everything you ever wanted.”

Will gasps at the feeling of cold hands gripping and pawing at his own ass. He cries out, but there is no sound, and the hands begin to multiply–

He comes to, squinting against the light of the bedside lamp.

“Are you alright, Will?” The real Hannibal asks, concern evident on his face.

Will takes a moment to orient himself, then turns onto his side away from Hannibal and the piercing light. “Fine,” he says, “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you certain? You sounded quite upset.”

Shame darkens Will’s cheeks at the realization that Hannibal must have heard him. He pulls the comforter up over his head, then pulls the extra bit of it hanging over the side of the bed up underneath him and rolls over it, effectively turning himself into a cocoon. Hannibal must take his silence as an answer, as he turns the lamp off with a sigh and doesn’t bother asking anything else.

\---

Things are much the same as always the following morning, though Hannibal doesn’t bother asking Will how he slept for once. Will is immensely grateful, yet fears Hannibal will want to talk about it later on down the line. They both go to work, then come together for dinner, and Will thinks he’s just about moved on from it all when Hannibal surprises him once more.

“I must excuse myself, Will. As much as I enjoy your company, I feel I must be alone for a bit.”

Will finishes chewing and swallows the last of his ropa vieja–a local staple he’s grown rather fond of–and asks why. Hannibal shakes his head, calls it ‘just a feeling’, and then retreats to the guest room, leaving Will to stare wide-eyed at his departure in disbelief. Not once has either of them requested ‘alone time’ since arriving in Havana. What would they even do without each other, excluding work?

Will tries to brush up on his Spanish. He makes it about ten minutes or so, and then he shuts the dictionary and tosses it onto the chair in front of the bookshelves. He cannot contain his curiosity, so he makes his way to the guest room where he suspects Hannibal is still holed up. Upon reaching the door, he knocks softly four times. There is no response.

“Hannibal?” He calls out, once again to no response.

Almost certain he can hear something, he places his ear against the door. There’s a low humming noise he can’t identify, and then there’s a soft cry of pain. Worried, but still not wanting to be a disturbance, Will turns the doorknob and opens the door no more than an inch. He nearly rushes into the room at the sight of Hannibal’s face–flushed and shining with sweat–but he hesitates as his eyes drift downwards towards a glint of silver barely visible between the fingers of Hannibal’s left hand; barely visible between his cheeks. Will’s eyes are pulled away from the plug by the motion of Hannibal’s other hand, where it glides along his cock at a steady pace. Will forgets to breathe for a moment as the meaning of ‘alone time’ becomes apparent, and then he pulls the door closed as quietly as possible and marches straight to bed.

He lies there on his back, staring at the ceiling as he struggles to make sense of the sudden, powerful emotion that has gripped him at the sight of Hannibal masturbating. It’s not attraction, he assures himself, not anything more than the surprise he felt at seeing Hannibal naked before. Only, he’s not just surprised. There’s something else there: neither attraction nor surprise. His inability to identify it is maddening. It’s not until he awakens the next morning, alone and with a strong morning erection, that he understands.

After breakfast, Will gathers his courage and approaches Hannibal to ask for a toy like the one he now knows Hannibal owns. The other man says nothing at first, choosing instead to stare at Will like he’s grown a second head for long enough that Will nearly tells him to forget he asked. Hannibal agrees, though, and a brand new vibrating butt plug is waiting for Will on the bed when he retires for the night.

Will almost feels guilty for using it, after the way Hannibal looked at him when he requested it. He’s not a fool; he knows now what Hannibal wants from him. In hindsight, he really should have expected it: Hannibal loves him. Will loves him back, albeit in a somewhat different way. He feels guilty; almost like he’s led Hannibal on in a way. He never considered nor asked if Hannibal truly enjoyed what they were doing; what they always did. He never thought about Hannibal’s needs, never thought of letting Hannibal make love to him instead of dispassionately fucking him the same way as always. He’s definitely never considered swapping roles. He cannot give Hannibal what he wants here.

Still, Hannibal shows no sign of coming to bed. In fact, he didn’t come to bed last night, either. Will hates sleeping alone, but if Hannibal needs to be away from him to come to terms with what he can and cannot have out of their relationship, so be it. Will tears the new toy out of its packaging and tries it out. Unsurprisingly, it’s quite effective. He comes in a relatively short period of time–perhaps as much due to the pent-up frustration as the toy–but it’s still not enough. He tries it again and again, switching things up a bit every night for the rest of the week, but it only gets less effective every time.

Perhaps it’s his imagination, but Hannibal seems just as...affected, as he is. He doesn’t speak as much and rarely asks Will how he’s slept. He watches Will with something akin to remorse when he thinks Will isn’t looking. Whatever Hannibal’s doing must be working in the meantime, though, because he still hasn’t caved and offered Will his dick again. This continues for nearly another week before Will grows curious enough to spy again: intentionally this time.

Hannibal is no longer using the plug. He’s replaced it with a highly realistic dildo and is going at it so hard Will’s mouth begins to water at the thought of Hannibal pounding him like that. He stays to watch longer than the first time, having gotten caught up in his own fantasy. The next day, he goes out to buy himself a dildo just like it. Still, it isn’t enough.

Two days later, Will waits until he’s sure Hannibal’s far enough into it not to notice him, then cracks the door open just enough to get a good view. The first thing he notices is that Hannibal is face-down, ass up in the air like how Will constantly wishes he had reason to be. Secondly and perhaps more importantly is that the plug is gone, as is the dildo. There are no toys to be found, in fact: just Hannibal’s own lubed-up fingers. He’s rubbing his hole gently, slowly like a nervous teenage boy trying it for the first time.

All the blood in Will’s body rushes down to his groin as Hannibal finally penetrates himself, moaning softly as he thrusts his fingers in and out, in and out again. Will’s hand is dipping below the waistband of his pants before he catches himself but, seeing no real harm in it, Will pulls his dick out and gives it a couple strokes. It’s all about the fantasy, he tells himself. Watching Hannibal like this gives him ideas for later; things to try out on himself until Hannibal comes to his senses (and comes inside him again, hopefully). He thinks he may be getting close when he hears Hannibal cry out his name, giving him pause. He stands there in the hallway like a deer in headlights, but Hannibal continues as he was. Will hears his name twice more before Hannibal comes untouched, collapsing onto the bed as he gasps for breath.

Will retreats swiftly, overwhelmed by the desperate affection he heard in that voice. He strides into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. He leans against the door, breathing quietly with his face in his hands. After a few minutes he steps up to the mirror to look at himself; to gaze at that pitiful, stupid excuse for even a fake husband staring back at him.

“Does it matter?” Will asks himself, “Does it matter what you’re uncomfortable with feeling, when he loves you so?”

The other him doesn’t respond, only stares back judgmentally like he can’t believe he would even need to ask such a thing. Like it’s as obvious as it seems to be.

“Am I uncomfortable with feeling? Or am I just afraid to submit this last piece of myself to he who has hurt me time and time again?”

Will heaves a sigh, taking his reflection’s silence as agreement.

The truth is that Will is attracted to _all_ of Hannibal: mind, soul (if he has one), and body. He has no problem admitting that he loves the hot darkness of the man’s mind, his voice, his food, his touch, the feeling of him when he’s inside. What he can’t admit is that he loves his hands, his mouth, his chest: everything from his ears to his toes and especially his ass.

It isn’t because he’s straight, no matter how many times he’s told himself. He doesn’t know _what_ he is. Though he’s only ever loved women before Hannibal, he never even thought about it. Hannibal is nothing like them, physically or otherwise. Will’s love for him is nothing like his love for them. Even with all this love and all this time they’ve spent together, killing and consuming and evading the law, Will is afraid to give up everything. Hannibal’s love language is touch and Will’s afraid to speak it–afraid that if he does, he’ll have nothing left for Hannibal to take.

That’s what Hannibal does: he takes. He takes life and he turns it into food. He takes the suffering of others and turns it into seasoning. He takes information and turns it into a weapon, seals it in a fancy envelope and labels it ‘return to sender.’

He took Will’s trust and turned it into worship.

If Will surrenders this last piece of himself, and Hannibal grows bored, what will happen then? Will he be made to leave? Will he wake up strapped to a chair like in Florence, with a leg missing like Dr. Du Maurier? Even worse: will Hannibal no longer look at him with unrestrained affection and longing?

Will pulls away from the mirror with a frustrated growl. No, he won’t let that happen. Hannibal himself said before that he never could predict him, that they could never predict each other. He will not let Hannibal become bored with him even if it kills him. As he returns to his–no, _their_ –bedroom, Will formulates a plan: one that’ll satisfy the both of them and catch Hannibal off guard. He goes over every detail of this plan in his head until he falls asleep.

\---

The next morning, Will calls his clients to inform them of a minor change in schedule. His excuse is that there are “family troubles” he must sort out before he can get back to work on repairs. He does this quietly, as Hannibal has most of the day off and hasn’t left the house yet. It won’t do for Hannibal to get suspicious before Will’s ready. Once Hannibal’s left, Will gets to work on opening himself up and getting himself so close to the edge each time just to stop, go for a glass of water, and get right back to it. The time required to reach that point each time decreases until Will doesn’t think he can handle it anymore, so he slips the plug in and leaves it there turned off until Hannibal returns home.

Only, something appears to be wrong. Hannibal only has three clients on Fridays, and yet he’s nearly an hour late. Will paces the living room, checking his watch obsessively while he waits. He’s thinking to call Hannibal to make sure he’s alright when the man finally opens the front door and steps inside, looking for all the world like he’s just run a marathon. Or, as Will gets a whiff of that very unanticipated, never-before-smelled cheap cologne, like he’s just had a quick sexual encounter with another man while his not-husband waited patiently at home with a ready hole.

Furious, Will wastes no time crossing the space between them and, after grabbing Hannibal by the collar, dragging him rather inelegantly to their bedroom. Hannibal seems quite surprised, but he allows Will to manhandle him onto the bed and out of his shoes. It’s only when Will goes for his fly that he chooses to speak up.

“I don’t feel up to that right now, Will.”

“Good. Neither do I.”

Will lunges forward, capturing Hannibal’s lips in a bruising kiss. It’s strange to think about it now, but they’ve had sex dozens of times before without kissing even once. Will’s mad now for denying himself, but he’s equally angry at Hannibal for not just taking what they both goddamn _needed_.

He pulls back to breathe and to judge Hannibal’s reaction and is pleased to see the surprise and arousal etched into every corner of the older man’s face. He didn’t think Will would be brave enough. He hoped Will would give in eventually, but he didn’t expect it so soon.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect this either,” Will huffs as he yanks Hannibal’s belt out of all the loops and tosses it onto the ground.

“What is it you want, Will? What do you need me to do?” Hannibal asks, rubbing Will’s ribs through his shirt.

“I don’t need you to do anything. What I want you to do is to lie back and take everything I give you. Can you do that?” Will asks, leaning down to nip at Hannibal’s ear as he works to get his pants off.

Hannibal nods jerkily as Will begins to trail kisses down the side of his neck, pausing to suck a bruise into the skin every now and then. “Yes. I can.”

“Good.”

Will stands straight, surveying the mess of a man beneath him for a moment before getting back to work. Once they’re both naked, he makes a show of removing the plug and then tosses it aside. Hannibal swallows audibly, fingers twitching like he wants to pull Will down onto his dick then and there.

“Patience,” Will croons.

He retrieves the lube from the bedside table and returns to squirt just a bit onto Hannibal before lowering himself onto him. More for Hannibal’s sake and despite his earlier preparations, he goes slowly. Hannibal’s face contorts with pleasure and Will mentally berates himself for not trying this sooner. He picks up the pace, bouncing onto Hannibal’s cock hard and fast. He startles himself with a loud moan, prompting Hannibal to answer with his own.

“Did you–did you ever think of me like this?” Will asks, raising his voice a bit so it can be heard over the wet slap of skin on skin, “Did you ever see me like this? Taking, taking what I wanted from you? ‘Stead of just waiting.”

Will punctuates the last word with a particularly brutal slam of his hips, forcing a groan out of Hannibal. Without giving him time to respond, Will drapes himself over him, feeling his dick slide out just a bit, and licks the sweat threatening to drip from his jaw.

“Did you?”

He kisses Hannibal again as he grinds his hips. Hannibal’s invading tongue is answer enough on its own, but Will wants to hear him say it. Much as he wants to stay like this forever, he wants to hear him say it, so he pulls back.

“Yes,” Hannibal says with great effort, “Yes, often.”

Will smirks. He returns to his previous position and picks up the pace once more, throwing his head back with bliss as he concentrates on nothing but the feeling of Hannibal’s dick massaging his inner walls and bumping against his prostate. Even as his legs grow sore with exertion, he doesn’t stop until Hannibal grips his thigh with one hand and squeezes as a sort of warning.

Will slows down and climbs off of him then. Hannibal watches curiously as he searches for the plug he so carelessly tossed earlier. Upon finding it, Will inspects it closely. They keep their floors quite clean and there doesn’t appear to be anything on it, so Will reinserts it and turns the vibration on to the max setting. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and avoid shooting his load right then and there.

“Will?” Hannibal has turned onto his side, perhaps thinking this means Will is done.

“Don’t worry. I’m not finished with you yet.”

Will returns to the bed and, without bothering to slick himself up, pushes Hannibal’s legs up and out of the way as he pushes himself inside the other man’s (as he begrudgingly suspected) already slick and used hole.

“Will–Ah!” Hannibal cries out sharply as Will pulls out and thrusts back inside with enough force to make the (sturdy, $8,000 price tag) bed creak and shake with it. He sets a punishing pace, releases his legs and grabs ahold of Hannibal’s dick, ignoring Hannibal’s pleas for mercy and his own oversensitivity as he pushes them both towards completion. It’s not much longer before Hannibal climaxes with a very uncharacteristic shout, going boneless as he recovers. Will keeps going, neither slowing down nor taking his hand away no matter how uncomfortable it must be for Hannibal. His own climax takes him by complete surprise, overtaking him out of nowhere without any buildup. He collapses onto Hannibal with a wheezing exhale, too tired and overwhelmed at first to turn off the plug’s vibration until it becomes painful. As he reaches behind himself with a shaking hand to do so, Hannibal intercepts him.

“Let me,” Hannibal mumbles, though it’s barely coherent.

Will winces as he turns it off and pulls it out slowly before letting it plop onto the bed beside them. There are at least three, if not four important bodily functions screaming for his attention all at once, but he has no energy with which to move. Hannibal seems to be in much the same boat, making no move to remove Will’s weight or do anything besides breathe into his hair. All other bodily functions forgotten and abandoned, they drift to sleep.

\---

“Don’t ever do that again,” Will says as he finishes drying the plate in his hand, turning to place it in the already half-full dish drainer to his right.

“Pardon?” Hannibal asks, passing him another plate as he does.

“Don’t ever sleep with someone else again,” Will clarifies, “You won’t like the consequences next time.”

Hannibal shuts off the faucet and puts the ceramic bowl back into the sink so he can turn his full attention onto his soon to be real husband. “I haven’t slept with someone other than you in the better part of a decade.”

“There’s no way you–wait, what?”

Will stares up at him with doubtful surprise.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone, Will. Nor did I have sex with anyone.”

“Then how...why…”

“I pleasured myself in the public restroom outside work, using the flesh-colored dildo. I threw it away afterwards, having seen no point in keeping it for much longer. Then I went to the department store across the street and bought the cheapest bottle of cologne I could find. I applied as much of it as I could tolerate, and then I jogged the rest of the way home.”

“You...you sly bastard. It was just another game to you. You were playing a game the whole time!” Will sputters, pointing an accusing fork at him.

Hannibal smirks, mindful of the fork as he pulls Will in closer until they’re pressed up against each other.

“I had the utmost faith in you, Will. You exceeded my expectations.”

“You wanted me to take for once,” Will says.

A kiss is his reward.

**Author's Note:**

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